


You're Everything That I See

by equalopportunityobsessor



Series: So You Were Never a Saint, and I've Loved in Shades of Wrong [1]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Inspired by Poetry, but really not poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equalopportunityobsessor/pseuds/equalopportunityobsessor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan's a lot smarter than Sherlock thinks she is. That's fine, though, she can wait for him to catch up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Everything That I See

Sometimes, if she's very very lucky, he will speak to her in poetry; like a magpie, he delights in giving her stolen things - the shinier the better. He showers her in his adoration with other's words, as though he thinks (and he does think this, she knows he does) that his own words would be wrong, just like so much about him has been wrong for so long.

Freak. Monster. Robot. (These thoughts taste like ashes and murder on her tongue; She knows he has heard far worse.)

He thinks it would be wrong to compare her mind to one of her beloved scalpels - precise, dangerous, graceful and glinting.

He thinks it would be wrong to compare her hands sometimes to birds and other times to tungsten carbide.

He thinks it would be wrong to tell her that he loves her hair at least as much as (maybe more than) he loves the entirety of the rest of her, and that if she were only to twine it around his wrist, he would gladly follow a step behind her for the rest of his life.

And so he gives her words, about her intense fragility, and how his heart has taken root in his body but he doesn't have a name for it.

She would prefer his words, of course she would. Her heart almost explodes against her ribs when he says she is exceptional, even though he always knew it was true and she knows that it shouldn't be. Still, until the day he can look her in the eye and tell her that he doesn't care if it hurts to be near her, so long as he gets to be near her, she will cherish and covet his stolen poetry.

Maybe, if she's very very lucky, one day, he will bring her flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are selfishly adored. 
> 
> Poetry borrowed from 'somewhere i have never travelled', by e.e. cummings, and 'You Are Jeff', by Richard Siken.


End file.
